Several Ways to Die Trying
by i-am-your-opus
Summary: Brittany and her brother Sam have always been alone - in school, in their jobs, and in their "special" abilities, until a random encounter with a strange girl makes her question everything she knows, including a past that is becoming more and more uncertain. Superhero AU.
1. Chapter One

**October 12****th****, 2008**

* * *

It takes her a few days to open the letter.

She leaves the envelope sitting on the pile of clothes where she found it. She doesn't know how it got there, because she's spent nearly all of her time in her room since Brittany left, and she knows that she couldn't have possibly snuck in after what happened. Yet there it sits, _"For Santana"_ in beautiful blue script on the front, mocking her.

She doesn't open it at first. And when she finally does, ripping it out of its envelope after several sleepless hours of staring and longing and hate, she's almost surprised by how short it is. It's only a page long (_one lousy fucking page)_, with small cramped handwriting covering each side, and anger grips at her chest as she throws the letter onto the dresser, suddenly intent on not reading it.

She knows there's not enough room for the all words she needs to hear on one page.

She's surprised she lasts as long as she does, not reading it. Then again, Santana has always been stubborn. Brittany once told her she thought it was cute, and _that _is something Santana has never really understood. Then again, she always thought she understood very little about Brittany. Especially now.

It's three days later, during dinner, when her resolve finally breaks. Everyone has been avoiding the subject of Brittany altogether in the weeks since she's left - they all know Santana is likely on a particularly short fuse no one wants to ignite.

Puck cracks the joke offhandedly at dinner, not realizing that Brittany's name has slipped out of his mouth until the whole table falls silent.

What Santana does next surprises everyone. She doesn't snap. She doesn't yell. She doesn't cry. She doesn't say anything at all, actually.

Everyone stares at her, but instead of reacting, she focuses her eyes on her food and continues to eat. Someone coughs uncomfortably, someone whispers. No one really says anything for about a full minute, the room filling with sounds of people chewing and forks scraping across plates.

Eventually conversation starts back up, but Santana isn't paying any attention by then. She finishes her food, pushes her chair back, and leaves. Puck looks as if he's about to go after her, but Quinn puts her hand over his knee, stopping him.

Her eyes are dry when she reaches her room, and she picks up the letter, barely giving herself time to sit down on the bed before she begins to read.

_Santana, _

_I've spent so much time thinking about what I want to say to you in this letter, but I can't seem to come up with anything that will make you forgive me. I know you feel like I lied to you, and I'm so, so sorry for that. I would say I never meant to deceive you, but that's not really true and I think we both know that by now. I can honestly say, however, that I never meant to hurt you. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do, and I know that's exactly what I ended up doing. _

_There are so many things I wish I could make you understand, but I know I'll probably never get the chance to. When I left, I know you thought I was betraying you, but I promise that's not at all what happened. I know it's a lot to ask right now, but you'll just have to trust me._

_I also know I'm probably making you angry by writing this letter. If I can't explain what's happened, then why am I even bothering to write to you? Why am I hurting you by trying to make you understand? Why can't I just let you hate me?_

_It's because I'm selfish. I'm stupid, and selfish, and I love you, and I'm so scared that you'll hate me after all of this. I just want you to understand how sorry I am. I know you won't forgive me, but I just need for you to know. I don't want you to hate me, because you're the only person who's ever cared for me the way you do and I'm terrified of losing that. Even if I never get to see you again, I can't stand the idea of going through my life knowing that I made you hate me. You're my best friend, Santana. You're my first genuine friend I've made in my life, and I hate to think I've ruined that. _

_I wish I could say more, but I can't. I'm having Tina bring this to you, and then we're leaving and not coming back for a very long time. There's so much at stake here. I wish you could know. I know you'd help us if you understood. I wish this letter could contain all my secrets, all my reasons, and that you could read it and run away with me. _

_So I need this letter to not only say I'm sorry, but to say goodbye. I'm sorry for what I did to you, I'm sorry for running away, I'm sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry for writing this. _

_I'm sorry I have to say goodbye. _

_I'll be thinking about you forever,_

_Brittany_

She stares at the paper blankly for a few minutes, flicking her finger over the corner repeatedly and watching as it bends, a crease forming. She drops the letter, following it with her eyes as it falls slowly to the ground.

She rests her head in her hands and, for the first time in weeks, she lets herself cry.

* * *

**April 12th, 2007**

* * *

Brittany rattles the door to her apartment, trying to get the key to turn in the lock. Poncho dripping, umbrella tucked beneath her arm, she yanks on the doorknob with a frustrated groan. She has exactly twenty minutes to change into her uniform and grab some dinner before work, and their broken door acting up is exactly what she does _not_ need right now.

"Stupid freaking— _yes!" _The lock finally clicks into place and she bursts into her apartment as soon as the knob turns. She kicks off her rain boots and hits the switch on the wall, but the overhead light only flickers for a moment before dying, leaving her in the dark.

Brittany frowns. Mental note: Replace the hallway lightbulb, right after fixing the lock.

She's just finished hanging up her rain coat, still trying to remember their ever-growing list of repairs, when she hears it. A low creak, from somewhere inside the apartment.

She pauses, holding her breath.

She knows it's silly, because Sam left for work over an hour ago and the door was locked tight when she arrived - but suddenly, she can _feel_ it. She's not alone.

"Hello?" she calls out, with too much of a quiver in her voice. Brow furrowing, she tries again: "Is anyone here?" There - a little steadier this time around. She knows her chances of intimidating anyone are doubtful at best, but she'll have a much better chance against an intruder if she could at least speak without sounding like she's scared out of her mind.

Mustering her courage, she swings her umbrella forward like a sword, holding it as steadily as she can despite her trembling hands as she walks slowly into the apartment.

"Hello?" she says again, proud when the word comes out without the slightest waver.

She moves slowly towards the kitchen first. She looks under the table and checks behind the curtains and even considers opening the pantry before deciding that any robber worth being afraid of definitely wouldn't be able to fit inside their small cabinet space.

She turns to leave and investigate the rest of the apartment when a grey blur suddenly jumps in front of her, and she has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop herself from shrieking.

_Meow._

Her heart is still racing, but Brittany can't stop herself from smiling at the sight of her cat perched regally on the counter, his long tail swishing back and forth.

It was just Lord T all along. Brittany laughs in spite of herself.

_"Jesus,_ Tubs! You scared me," she says, putting her umbrella down on the counter and reaching to scratch behind the large grey feline's ears. He purrs low in response. "Here I was, getting all worked up over noth—"

There's a loud thump from somewhere in the apartment, and the umbrella is suddenly in her hands again.

She briefly considers calling Sam, but she knows he never keeps his phone on when he's at work. Besides, he would probably tell her she was being dramatic. He'd come home to check on her anyway, because that's just the kind of brother he is - but then he'd be leaving work early, and they _really_ can't afford any missing paychecks right now. They need all the money they can get if they don't want to fall behind on their rent again.

_You can do this, Brittany, _she assures herself as she leaves the kitchen, green umbrella brandished in front of her. _It's all in your head. There's no one in your apartment. You're just being silly. _

She's halfway down the hallway to her bedroom when she hears another creak coming from the living room.

"Hel... Hello?"

There isn't an answer. She swallows nervously before taking a cautious step forward, eyes probing the shadows for another streak of grey, despite the fact that she can still hear Lord Tubbington purring from the kitchen. "LT? Is that you?"

"Guess again."

She spins just in time to see a dark shape flying toward her - and then the wind is knocked out of her lungs as he crashes into her, sending them both flying toward the couch. Thrashing wildly, Brittany shrieks, flailing her umbrella and managing a few solid knocks on the top of his head -

before she notices her attacker has dissolved into familiar laughter.

"Sam!"

He doesn't stop laughing, even when she shoves him off of her and onto the ground.

"Oh god, Britt, your— your _face_!"

"You— argh!" She's trying very hard to look angry, but this somehow only makes him laugh even harder. "Sam! That was - that was mean!" But really, it's impossible to be mad when he's smiling like that, and the laughter bubbles out of her before she can stop herself, the adrenaline escaping with it. She closes her eyes and flops back against the couch, feeling the tension drain from her muscles.

"Uh, Britt," Sam says suddenly. Her eyes fly open; he's staring at the umbrella still clutched tightly in her hands. "You've got a little…"

"Oh, shit!"

The green umbrella has now blackened and is smoldering. She jumps up and rushes to the kitchen, trying to fit as much of the umbrella in the sink as she can. Smoke fills the air when the water hits the burning fabric, and Brittany backs away, coughing.

"Dammit!" She looks out the kitchen window with dismay, where the rain is still pounding against the glass pane. "That was my only umbrella."

Sam grins at her from the doorway. "Admit it, I got you good." He's still laughing, and Brittany wants so badly to be mad at him, but the fading adrenaline has left her giddy. She finds herself smiling as she nods, surrendering.

It's a game they used to play when they were kids. The rules were never set in stone, but it pretty much amounted to them trying to scare the living shit out of each other at every opportunity that presented itself.

Sam always won.

"You got me good," she acknowledges, and Sam pumps his fist in victory. She rolls her eyes, trying to pretend like she's not still smiling. This doesn't get past Sam, of course.

"You should try to, y'know_—_ _not_ light things on fire when you get scared." He's only teasing, but the smile immediately falls from her face.

"Yeah…" She sighs, eyeing the smoking remnants of her umbrella in the sink. "I'm trying."

"I know." Sam nudges her good-naturedly. "You'll get the hang of it eventually."

Brittany doesn't respond. She's been "gifted," as her brother likes to call it, for as long as she can remember, but she's not even close to getting a handle on it. It only likes to show up when she's really angry, or afraid, and even then, she doesn't see the point. What good is trying to tame supposed superpowers when they only let you summon a little bit of water, or produce a flame with all the ferocity of a wet match?

She shuts the water in the sink and gives her umbrella a hard shake, setting it aside. It's only then that she really notices Sam's appearance. His sleeves are a little ripped on the bottoms, and his clothes look as if they've been splashed with mud on one side.

Brittany frowns. "Wait a second. What are you doing home? You were supposed to be at work a half hour ago. And why are you all…" She reaches forward to swipe away a piece of hair clinging to his forehead, "… wet?"

"I, uh - guess I wasn't paying attention," he explains, smiling sheepishly. "I landed in a puddle after I kind of, uh, ran into a mailbox."

Brittany's eyes widen - familiar panic. "What? Did you break it?"

"Wow, thanks for the concern, sis," he deadpans, and she shoves him gently. "I'm fine, thank you. And no, for your information, I did not 'break it.' I _may_ have left a small dent, however," he adds, and she rolls her eyes.

"I'm glad you both survived."

He laughs before going serious again. "The chain on my bike snapped in half when I fell on it. I can get it fixed tomorrow, though," he says quickly when he sees her concern, but it doesn't help. She knows Sam needs his bike for work, and if he can't fix it, he'll be out of a job. If he's out of a job, their budget will get really tight, really fast. Brittany could probably pick up a few more shifts if need be, but then she'd be working practically nonstop.

If Sam says he can get it fixed, though, she trusts him. Sam's always been honest with her, even when it means bearing bad news.

She touches his arm, and notices for the first time that he's shivering. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a bit cold. The rain really picked up again when I was about two blocks from home."

Brittany frowns. She's never understood why Sam could practically get hit by a train and come out unscathed, but a little rain could turn him into a shivering mess. If he's so strong, why can he still get the common cold?

But there will always be things she won't understand about these stupid "gifts." She shakes her head and brings herself back to reality. She _should _be leaving for work, but she has a few more minutes before she'll really be running late, and she knows that if she doesn't take care of Sam, he won't take care of himself. And they really, really cannot afford for Sam to get sick right now.

"Sit down. I'll heat you up some soup before I have to run."

She tries to make him take a seat at the counter and relax, but he goes and grabs the bowls and spoons anyway. Brittany takes a can of soup and a box of cereal out of the pantry.

"I can get it," Sam says, reaching out to grab the can from her. She pulls it away, holding it out of his reach.

"Don't be silly." She rolls her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Don't you want me to get better at it anyway?"

_Focus. _She takes the wrapper off, _focus, _cracks the lid, and focuses all of her attention on the can of soup between her fingers. She feels the way her fingertips - _focus _- push against the metal of the can, concentrates on the sensation, the subtle warmth that radiates from her hand without any effort.

_Focus_, she repeats, to the point where the word itself is almost a distraction. She thinks of warm summers, of hot chocolate after playing in the snow for hours, the heat the soup will create as it travels down her throat.

She feels her hands getting warmer. It's a pleasant warmth, a tingling feeling. Energy.

_Focus. _She pushes, forcing the energy from her hands into the metal and the soup inside. She lets it stay there for a few moments, _focus_, until it's steaming, and puts it down on the counter. Her pride is hampered by her annoyance with how useless it all is. Super Brittany, the greatest Soup-Warmer of the century. Almost as useful as their broken stove.

"Sorry," he says, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He's staring at her hands, and it's making her uncomfortable. "I know you hate…"

"It's okay," Brittany says before he can finish. "It's just soup."

She pours herself a bowl of Lucky Charms. She only has about five minutes left now, and she really doesn't want to be late _again. _Her boss has never complained, but she can see the way the other employees look at her when she comes in after everyone else. They think she gets special treatment, and Brittany doesn't like that. She works hard, and doesn't want anyone to think less of her - especially for something as silly as tardiness.

Sam is digging into his soup. "What time does your shift end?"

"Eleven," she replies through a mouthful of cereal. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"You know people usually eat that with milk, right? And for breakfast?"

Brittany shrugs, not wanting to remind him that she doesn't feel like having any more leftover pizza from his job (it's beginning to give her a stomachache, they eat it so much) - not to mention she's given him the last can of soup. "Just because I'm eating cereal at night doesn't make it not breakfast, Sam."

He laughs, shaking his head as he opens the fridge. "I, uh—I won't be home until late tonight, so don't wait up." He doesn't look at her as he says this, head buried in the fridge as he hunts for a drink.

"Got a hot date?" she asks, jokingly — not because Sam isn't handsome enough to get a date, but because, despite her efforts, he barely speaks to anyone outside of their small apartment.

He barks out a short laugh but still doesn't look at her, kicking the fridge closed behind him.

A bad feeling starts to settle over her, and Brittany narrows her eyes. "Sam?"

He turns to face her, placing a carton in front of her. His mouth opens, and then closes again - Brittany can see him searching hard for an excuse.

She sighs. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't do this anymore."

"We didn't _agree_, Brittany. You told me how you feel, and I respect that - I do." He takes a deep breath. "But I'm sorry. I can't let that stop me."

A rare rush of anger passes through her. She doesn't want to tell him what to do—Sam is Brittany's _older _brother, as he has no problem reminding her whenever she tries to lecture him. So she grabs the first thing she sees, a magazine laying out on the counter, and flips through it quickly, eyes not focusing on anything in particular as she turns the pages. Ignoring him.

A few seconds later, Sam lays a cautious hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be careful, sis. I promise."

The pages stop turning.

"I just… I don't understand why you need to do this," she says tensely, trying to keep the anger from her voice. She doesn't know why she's so angry with Sam, but she doesn't want to figure it out, either. She just doesn't want him to go.

"I don't _need_ to, Britt. I want to. I want to help these people. I don't need this, but they need me."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it would hurt his feelings. Sam is always saying things like that: well worded phrases that just_ sound_ meaningful, even if she doesn't always understand what they mean. "They don't need you, Sam. That's what the police are there for."

He shakes his head. "We're _special. _We can help in ways the police can't. Why can't you see that?"

"Because we're _not, _Sam," she says, finally slamming the magazine down on the counter. "We're not special; this isn't something to be celebrated. You walk around talking like this is some sort of _blessing_, like I should feel _honored _that I'm the way I am."

"Maybe you should! Maybe if you weren't so angry all the time you could see that _this_," he gestures between them, "is a good thing!"

"A 'good thing?'" She stares at him, incredulous. "Sam, you can't be serious. He tortured us. He nearly _killed _us. He practically ruined our lives!"

He scoffs at this, and Brittany feels something tighten in the back of her neck, her anger tensing the muscles there.

"Ruined them? Brittany, do you remember what kind of 'lives' we had? He didn't ruin our lives. There was nothing left to _be _ruined. We were nothing. We still _would _be nothing, if it wasn't for what he gave us."

"What he gave us," she repeats, her voice flat. "So what, now he's your hero or something? He saved you from your big, bad, boring life with me?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. I'm just saying that we're _worth_something now. We have a purpose."

"You've always had a purpose, Sam."

He snorts, shaking his head. Her eyes soften as she looks at her brother, noticing how his shoulders sag and he's no longer making eye contact with her.

"Don't be like that," she says, quietly now, all the anger fading from her voice. "That's not true."

He stares at the ground for a few long moments. "Britt," he says softly, "I barely made it through high school. I make minimum wage delivering pizzas. You're my only friend. Helping people, saving them… it gives me something that I could never dream of having otherwise. I _mean _something now." His voice is low, and it pulls at something deep inside Brittany's chest.

"You've always meant something," she says. And when he raises his eyebrows, she says, quieter, "You mean everything to me."

He sighs. "Britt…"

"No, Sam. Don't you get it? All those things, they apply to me, too. I'm not smart, and I'm not talented. I got lucky, I have a job that pays more than yours does, but it's not because I'm special." She takes a shaky breath. "_You _are the only thing that makes me special, Sam. You're my brother, my best friend, and I love you, and…" her voice quiets as her eyes begin to sting. "You're all that I have. If I lose you, I have nothing."

"Brittany," he says softly, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around her. She pulls herself tightly into his chest. "You aren't going to lose me."

"I'm scared," she mumbles into his shirt. "What if you get hurt?"

"Maybe if you came out with me, you'd see there isn't anything to be scared of."

"Maybe," she sighs, knowing the argument is over.

"Nothing is going to happen to me," he promises as he pulls away, looking her in the eyes. "Hell, I'm pretty sure nothing _can_happen to me."

She smiles a little at this, and he rubs her arms comfortingly. "Try not to be too late, okay?"

"I won't be. You, however…"

"What?" she asks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. His eyes flick to the clock behind her, and she follows them there.

"_Shit!_" Brittany snatches her bag from the counter. "I'm late for work!"

"When are you not?" he calls after he as she runs towards her bedroom.

"Shut up, Sam!"

She bursts out of her room not thirty seconds later, donned in her work clothes and a hastily made bun. She finds her shoes underneath the living room table, and nearly falls over trying to pull them on as she stumbles towards the door.

"You love me," Sam's voice follows her into the hall.

"I do." Brittany shrugs into her raincoat. "And you love me. Which is why you're going to keep in touch all night so I won't have to worry about you, right?"

"Right," he says, grinning from the kitchen doorway, and she flings her arms around him for a quick hug.

* * *

The house she's working in tonight isn't terribly huge, at least when compared with the mansions she often finds herself in for this job. The people are who live here are obviously wealthy, though. The place is three or four stories tall (it's hard for Brittany to tell with all the damn modern architecture), with a large pool in the back yard. There are too many rooms for her to remember on the first floor alone, and Brittany can't help but feel a bit more appreciative of her small, simple apartment a few miles away.

The guests are sitting down to dinner when the power goes out.

A few people gasp, and one woman lets out a loud squeak. After the initial shock wears off, however, the surprise dissolves into laugher. That is, until they realize that their only sources of light are the two candles lit on the table and one flashlight. The bay windows don't afford much light with the rain still pounding against the glass, night falling in the cloudy sky.

Brittany's boss, Karen, calms the guests quickly. Brittany and her co-workers somehow manage to serve dinner using only the flashlight as their guide, and everyone is content.

"Pierce!"

Brittany, who is busy covering up a tray of chicken francese, looks up to see Karen approaching her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You don't have to call me ma'am, Pierce," Karen chuckles. Brittany likes Karen. She's soft, and she has a slightly southern tinge to her voice.

"Have you seen Tony?"

Tony is the other waiter working that night. They've never been particularly good friends, but he's nice to her and he does his job well, so she likes him better than most of her coworkers. At least, he doesn't seem to judge her the way the others do.

"I think he went to the store to get some candles, ma'am."

"Pierce, you don't have to call me – never mind." Karen sighs. "Listen, I need you to do something. The woman hosting this shindig is about as drunk as they come. She fell over a few minutes ago looking for a flashlight. Broke one of the heels on her shoe clean off."

"Did she find any flashlights?" Brittany asks hopefully. Karen shakes her head.

"No, 'fraid not. Now listen. I need you to go up the stairs, take your first right, and go in the second door on your left. You follow?"

Brittany nods, trying to commit the directions to memory.

"Good. Now, when you're in that room, walk straight ahead until you hit the closet. Open the door—it's one of those sliding ones—and find her some shoes, preferably without the heels this time. You got that?"

"Upstairs, door, shoes." She nods. "Right."

"Good," says Karen, and Brittany turns to leave. "Oh, and Pierce? Be quick about it, I don't want to be alone down here with these folks for too long."

"Yes, ma'am!"

It takes Brittany just a few steps too many to realize that she should have placed her hand against the wall, feeling for the first turn off in the dark. She hopes she hasn't missed it, and walks, dragging her fingers along the wall to her right, until her hand gropes darkness. She turns, muttering, _"second door on the left" _under her breath. It only takes a few seconds more to discover that there _isn't_ a second door on the left, just another hallway.

_Is that supposed to be there? _She isn't sure, so she just keeps walking, letting her hands guide her in the dark.

She's on the third or forth wrong turn when she hears it: a loud scraping sound echoing down the hall.

Maybe her mind is playing tricks on her. She's still all jittery from the power outage, just like the woman downstairs who nearly fell off her chair when the lights went out. Everyone else is still downstairs at the party. There's no one else up here.

Still, a part of her knows this isn't right. She knows she heard that noise.

"Hello?" she finds herself calling out for the second time that day. The sound bounces off the walls, and even though she tries to strain her ears to hear a response, all she can hear is the loud chatter coming from downstairs.

She thinks, if only just for a moment, that she sees a flash of light underneath a door, but then it's gone. She swallows thickly and realizes it's the door she's supposed to be going in.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

She waits a few long moments, but there isn't another noise, or a flash of light. _Just your mind playing tricks. _She takes a deep breath to steady herself, and pushes the door open.

The room is dark, and though she can make out the shapes of some of the furniture, that's all there appears to be in the room. But despite the fact that she can't see much, she can still _feel _it: she's not alone.

There's someone else. Heat, radiating from across the room, prickling at the surface of her senses. She can feel the air around her, room temperature - and she can feel where it shifts, spiking several dozen degrees around the body of another person.

She's tempted to call out again, but decides that anyone hiding themselves in a dark room isn't likely to answer her. Instead, she begins to walk slowly towards the other person, trying not to breathe too loudly or make any noise. The closer she gets, the more certain she becomes that there is someone else in the room with her - directly in front of her, not a few feet away.

And then it disappears.

The door shuts loudly behind her - Brittany jumps, barely stops herself from crying out - and then she's being shoved back against the wall. A scream catches in her throat as someone's arm pushes against it. A bright light is shining into her eyes, and a body is pressed against hers, keeping her from moving.

"Oh," comes a voice lighter than Brittany expects. Her attacker suddenly pulls away, and the bright flood of light stops assaulting Brittany's vision.

Brittany blinks several times. Her hands now freed, she rubs her eyes, trying to regain her vision. Slowly, a dark shape comes into focus in front of her - and it isn't a big, bad, scary man with a knife or a gun.

It's a girl.

She's no older than Brittany herself, if she had to guess. She has dark hair and dark eyes, dressed in a hoodie and jeans - looking as out of place as Brittany feels. She doesn't seem dangerous at all. In fact, she's _smirking_.

"Sorry," the girl says, as though she's just bumped into Brittany on the sidewalk instead of shoved her forcefully against a wall in a dark room and shoved an arm against her windpipe. "I thought you were somebody else. Unless you _are_ here to try to stop me, in which case, I should just warn you… that's a _very_ bad idea."

Brittany must not seem very threatening, though, because the girl just turns towards the dresser and begins to rifle through a box, shining her flashlight across the room as she does it. It's in complete disarray, with clothes strewn all over the floor. She's surprised she made it as far into the room as she did without falling over.

"Stop you?" Brittany asks, dazed.

The girl looks up from her box and shines her flashlight past Brittany. "I've lost something. I'm just… trying to find it." By the time Brittany turns around to see what the girl was looking at, the light is gone, focused back on the floor between them.

The girl obviously isn't a guest, dressed in her dark hoodie and pants. Brittany would probably get fired if she left her to her own devices in the master bedroom. Taking a deep breath, she tries to look authoritative and says, "Well, you can't be here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Is that so?" The girl stops what she's doing and looks at her. Something in her gaze shifts as she stares; Brittany shivers before she can help herself. "And who—"

"Brittany?"

Brittany whirls around, and there's Tony, standing in the doorway, a flashlight in his hand. Brittany feels a rush of relief that she isn't going to have to be the one to kick this mysterious girl out. She turns around, maybe to grab the intruder and make sure she doesn't run away, but—

But the girl is gone, nowhere to be seen.

"Are you alright?" Tony asks in his soft voice. "I thought I heard voices."

"Yeah, I'm…" Brittany tries to find the words to explain, but ends up stammering instead. She scans the room, but the girl doesn't seem to be anywhere. It's as if she's disappeared into thin air.

"It was me, I was… talking. To myself. Uh, because I'm afraid of the dark."

But Brittany can still _feel _the girl's presence, there in the room with her. Heat, disturbing the bedroom's lukewarm air. But Brittany can't tell where in the room she is, and she doesn't want to seem even crazier around Tony by looking for her.

Even though Tony seems to have come to that conclusion on his own, from the strange way he's looking at her. "Oh." He frowns. "Okay, I'll just…" he holds the flashlight to her, and she quickly grabs it. "I'll leave you to it, then." And then he's gone.

The room is silent for a moment after Tony closes the door, and Brittany focuses on the energy she can feel radiating off the girl. She clicks on her flashlight, spinning around to try to pinpoint where the girl has gone, but something is throwing her off.

She thinks she hears muffled laughter behind her, and turns quickly towards the closet.

"You're still here, aren't you?"

"Yep," comes the reply, directly in her ear. Brittany _does_ scream this time, though she claps a hand over her mouth to muffle it before it escapes and the whole party hears her. Not that Brittany thinks that would be such a bad thing at this point, because she's pretty sure this mystery girl is up to no good.

That, and there is obviously something _odd_ about the girl,because, except for Sam, Brittany has never seen anyone move that fast before in her whole entire life. It's like she simply... _disappeared._

And that's when it hits her.

The girl has powers.

"_Jesus! _You're… you—you can…" Brittany manages to make out, eliciting another laugh from the girl.

"Yeah, I am, and I can," she replies, cocking an eyebrow. "And if you know what's good for you, you won't say anything to anyone. In fact, you'd probably be better off forgetting this ever even happened."

_Holy shit._

"I— you… but—" Brittany stutters, but the girl is getting impatient.

"All right, this is obviously getting us nowhere," she says, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Tell you what. You take a few minutes, gather your thoughts. I'm going to keep looking."

She walks passed Brittany towards the dresser. She flicks her fingers tightly against her palms, and the drawers fall out, banging as they go.

_So that's what I was hearing earlier,_ Brittany thinks, watching in awe as the drawers fly out of the knows she should be concerned that a burglar is making a mess of her client's bedroom, but she's never met anyone who _has _powers like hers. And this girl is using them differently than Brittany does, or even Sam. The way she conducts herself is... calculated, precise. _Practiced._

"What are you looking for?" Brittany asks after watching the girl sift through a few of the drawers. It occurs to her again that she should probably be stopping this, but this girl is obviously has a handle on her abilities. Brittany couldn't stop her if she tried.

And besides - she doesn't _want _to try. For the first time in her life she's watching somebody else, someone who isn't her or her brother, do something that should be completely impossible; she can't tear her eyes away for a second.

The girl flicks her wrist and the closet slides open.

"Nothing you need to know about," comes the cool reply from inside the walk-in closet moments later. By the time Brittany gets to the closet door, the girl is shoving something in her jacket pocket.

"Can I help you?" the girl asks, quirking an eyebrow at Brittany's unexpected proximity.

"Oh. Yeah, actually!" Brittany remembers suddenly. She reaches over the girl's head and grabs a box of shoes from the shelf, peeking inside to make sure they're the right kind.

"Shoes," she says meekly, holding the box up for her to see. The girl squints at her, as if she can't decide how to react, before a small smile forms at the corners of her lips.

"I can see that," she replies. "Well, now that we've both got what we came for…"

With a few quick strides she's at the window, throwing it open. Rain begins to fall through the opening as the girl swings one leg outside. Brittany thinks to tell her that it's too high, they're on the third floor and she can't possibly safely get down from here, but holds her tongue. Somehow, she doesn't think this girl needs her help.

"It was nice to meet you..." the girl trails off.

"Brittany," she supplies, instinctively.

"Right. Brittany. Well, then," the girl nods, smiling.

Brittany blinks.

She's gone.

_Woah._

* * *

Sam shrugs off his coat as he walks in the door, hanging it up on the rack. It stopped raining sometime after nine, thank _god_, but the damn black hooded jacket seemed to have soaked up enough water to keep him uncomfortably damp for days. He'd have to see if Brittany would mind doing something about that, since their dryer has been broken for weeks and he doesn't have the time (or money) to fix it.

He's surprised to see that his sister is still up, sitting on the couch, when he walks into the living room. She usually passes out right after work, and Sam feels a pinch of guilt knowing that she probably wasn't able to sleep knowing he was out in the streets.

"Sorry…" he starts. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

He expects her to be mad, but she shakes her head, smiling.

"No, it's fine!" she replies cheerfully. She pats the space next to her. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" he asks, taking a seat on the cushion beside her.

"Are you going out again tomorrow night?"

He squints at her, trying to determine whether or not she's trying to start another argument. When all he sees is a childlike interest that's just so damn _Brittany_, he nods.

"I was planning on it," he says cautiously. "Why?"

_Because there are other people out there like us, _she thinks, grinning, and feels the curiosity tugging in the back of her mind.

"I think I want to come with you."

* * *

**A/N: **Hi! I uploaded this a while ago, but I took it down when I thought I wasn't going to have time to work on it anymore. I'm re-uploading it now, so I apologize if you've read this before. It's new and improved, though, so I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Thanks to my sister, ladyoflilacs, for betaing. :)

Leave a review if you have the time! **iam-your-opus . tumblr .com**


	2. Chapter Two

"Are you sure about this, Britt?"

They've been packing for at least an hour. Crammed inside her small backpack are two flashlights, an extra hoodie, a first-aid kit, back-up batteries for each flashlight, a roll of duct tape… More than she's ever seen Sam bring along when he goes on these late-night adventures.

"Be prepared!" Sam quoted at her earlier, holding his hand up in a salute. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and point out that he had never been a Boy Scout, instead grinning at him as she packed away an extra pair of socks.

That was twenty minutes ago, though, and she can feel her patience wearing a bit thin as she tugs on her zipper, trying to get it to close over her bulging cargo.

"Sam, you just asked me that five minutes ago. Yes, I'm sure."

He eyes her warily from where he sits on her bed. "But you've always been so... I don't know, dead-set against all of this."

"I used to be against it... and now I'm not," she says simply.

The doubt in Sam's face doesn't disappear, but she ignores it as she pulls a black hoodie over her head.

She knows it's ridiculous, but something really _changed_ last night. Their powers have always represented something bad, an "unfortunate accident." But if there are other people out there like them - if there are other people with _powers,_ who are using them for something bigger and better... well, Brittany doesn't see the harm in at least investigating it all. And what better way to investigate than to get involved herself?

"Look," she says, setting down her backpack. "Our talk yesterday just... it made sense to me, finally. Why you want to come out here and help people. It's because you _can_. And I think, maybe... I think I can, too. If you showed me."

Sam smiles gently at her words, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Of course you could, Britt. You're way stronger than you think."

She can't help but laugh at this. "I don't know about that, but... with you by my side, I'm not _too_ worried," she says, and Sam wraps a protective arm around her. She leans into him, knowing that if she was going to be in a dangerous situation with anyone, she'd want it to be Sam. He's always had that protective-big-brother thing down pat.

It's chilly outside, even for mid April, and Brittany wraps her arms around herself when they step out into the cool evening air. The night was just beginning to come alive, people heading out to dance and drink, laughing and talking loudly in the streets. As far as Brittany could see, there wasn't anyone in the immediate area who needed the assistance of someone with superpowers. "Um, so where are we going, anyway?"

Sam shrugs as they cross the street together. "Oh, I don't know. I kind of like to just sit in dark alleyways, waiting for someone to get mugged."

"Really?" she says incredulously, frowning. That seems pretty boring.

"No, Britt," he answers, laughing. "If we get high up enough, though, I can pretty much hear what's going on around us. I'll be able to pick up on trouble pretty quick, and get us down there to help."

She looks nervously up at the buildings towering over them. "How high is high enough?"

"You'll see."

* * *

"Holy crap."

"High enough for you?" Sam laughs as Brittany leans to peer over the edge once more.

"Holy crap. Are we in space?"

"No, Britt."

"Look at the people, Sam! They look like little ants!"

"This isn't even the tallest building in the city."

"Really? Where is it? Can we go there next?"

"Brittany," he calls, trying to calm her, but she just grins at him excitedly. "Come here, take this."

He's holding out a black bandana to her, and she grabs it before holding it up to her face. There's nothing remarkable about it, and she frowns and begins to tie it on top of her head before Sam stops her.

"No, Britt. Like this."

Sam fastens his bandana so that it covers his face. She tries to mimic his, but after several failed attempts she lets Sam reach over and do it for her. She can't help the laugh that escapes her when he pulls away.

"We look like gangsters," she says, and she can tell by the crinkles around his eyes that he's smiling at her.

"I prefer the term bandits." He flips his hood up. "Here, do yours too."

She pulls the black hood over her head so nothing but her eyes are showing.

"Why do we have to wear all this stuff?" she asks. "It kind of makes me feel like a criminal."

Sam shrugs. "I dunno, all the guys in the comic books do. It's like, to protect the ones you love or something. If the bad guys don't know who you are, they can't use the people you love against you."

"This doesn't sound very safe," she says, frowning, but Sam shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it, Britt. Mostly it just makes me feel cool." He smiles winningly at her.

Brittany can't help but return his smile. "Yeah, we _do _look pretty badass. So what now? Do you get like spider-scent or something?"

"Spidey-sense, and no, I... here, actually, I'll show you."

Sam moves away from her, stepping suddenly towards the ledge. Brittany reaches out to grab him, forgetting for a moment that he could probably fall off a building twice the size of this one and still be unscathed.

"Sam be caref-"

"Shh!" His eyes are squeezed shut, and he brings a finger up to his lips. She steps up behind him to peer over his shoulder.

"What are you-"

"_Shh!" _He swats at her this time, and she giggles.

She watches him for a few moments, noting how his brow furrows every couple of seconds as if he's concentrating on something, occasionally tilting his head this-or-that way.

"Do you hear anything?" Brittany asks quietly after a minute has passed.

His face relaxes as he turns to look at her. "Yeah, but... nothing for us, yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's a lot of stuff going on at once. I have to decide what's something we should go to, you know? I don't want to have any run-ins with the cops."

Brittany frowns, confused. "But... you're doing good things. Why wouldn't the cops like that?"

"Because what we're doing- it's not technically legal, Britt. I know you say the cops can handle everything, but the truth is, they can't. They just... they don't like to _hear_ that they can't. They don't like someone else coming in and doing their job for them. It makes them feel out of control."

"That makes sense," she nods, agreeing. "So, how do you-"

"Hold up," Sam interjects, holding a hand up to stop Brittany before turning back to face the city.

His eyes squeeze shut again, and Brittany tries to be as quiet as she can, not even daring to breathe.

"I think... yeah, there's someone getting robbed. A woman. It's not far from here, but we're gonna have to run." He hunches over. "Hop on."

Giddy with nerves, she secures her backpack before obediently climbing onto Sam's back, holding on tight. He cranes his neck to look back at her. "Hold tight, okay?" he asks, and before she even gets to chance to answer, he's running so fast they might as well be flying.

The first thing Brittany notices is the wind.

She's so glad that her hair is secured under her hood, because at this speed she probably looks like Medusa. She tucks her head against Sam's shoulder, squinting her eyes as she tries to make sense of the blurs around them.

She can feel the way she falls through the air every time Sam takes a particularly large leap. She strains her muscles to hold on as tight as she can, but the ride is short– Sam has brought them to a stop on the roof of another building, a few blocks from where they started.

"Was that okay?" he asks, hushed. She nods quickly, because she's pretty sure it'll take her at least a few minutes to regain her voice, and she doesn't want to keep Sam waiting.

"All right. Stay up here, and don't draw any attention to yourself. I'm going to go figure out what's going on."

Brittany nods again, and he gives her a concerned smile before vaulting over the rooftop. She rushes to the side, watching with wide eyes as Sam silently descends the fire escape.

There are two men in the alleyway, both with their backs to Brittany. She can't see what they look like, but she's pretty sure one of them must be holding a weapon judging by the way the woman in front of them is cowering against the wall.

"P-_please,_" Brittany can hear her sob. "I've given you all I have, please just leave me alone."

She's young, not much older than Brittany herself. She's wearing some sort of dress uniform, and Brittany realizes that she must have been walking home from work when the men cornered her.

"A gorgeous girl like you? I'm pretty sure you have more to give…"

Sam lands noiselessly in the dark, quickly taking cover behind a dumpster.

Even though he didn't make any sound, the girl must have noticed his movement behind her attackers, because her eyes have found Brittany's on the rooftop not a second later. She looks scared, _terrified, _and Brittany has never felt the need to comfort anyone more in her entire life.

Brittany presses a finger to her lips, though, and looks back at Sam before she can stop herself. He's walking towards the men now, silent as a shadow as he approaches them.

The woman must have seen him, because her attackers have noticed her attention is no longer on their weapons. The larger of the two realizes there's someone behind them first, spinning around quickly with a knife held out in front of him.

"Hey!" he shouts gruffly, and Sam stops moving. His hands are in his pockets and his stance is relaxed, as if he hasn't just walked in on a mugging. The bigger man steps towards Sam as the shorter one steps in front of the girl, as if to hide what they had just been doing.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" the larger man growls, brandishing his knife, and Brittany watches in terror as Sam doesn't respond, continuing forward.

"Listen, man, you come any closer and I- I..." his speech stutters to a stop as Sam fearlessly seizes the hand gripping his knife and _squeezes_, forcing the weapon to pop right from his fingers. Sam catches it with his other hand by the sharp end. It crumples in Sam's fist fist as if it's made of plastic. Both men are gaping in awe as Sam tosses it carelessly over a shoulder, ruined.

"The fuck?" The man's voice is hoarse with fear. "Is this some sort of joke?"

Sam lets out a low laugh that echoes down the alley.

It's almost comical how quickly the color leaves his face, fear widening his eyes. "Listen, buddy, I— we, uh. We didn't mean any trouble, we was just leaving."

"Were you?" Sam finally speaks, and Brittany notices that he's talking in his lower register, like he does when he's doing his impressions. Except now, he doesn't sound funny; he sounds intimidating, and she can see its effect all over the man's face.

"So, I can assume that's _your_ purse, then?" Sam says dryly, gesturing towards the bag clutched behind the man's back.

"Here, take it," he says, shoving it forward. Sam grabs it from him before dropping it to the ground next to his feet, but the other guy has clearly found his courage again.

"The fuck are you doing, Tony?" Brittany can see his face turning splotchy red with anger, but his accomplice can't tear his eyes away from Sam, dark and terrifying and freakishly strong in the alleyway. Brittany can hardly blame him; Sam is downright frightening.

"I think it's time for us to go," the friend answers. Unlike his red-faced friend, he has now turned completely pale, and if Brittany looks close enough she can see that his shoulders are shaking.

"Like hell it is," the angry man spits. He reaches behind him and wraps his hand around the girl's forearm, tugging harshly so that she falls in front of him with a strangled cry. The man pulls the girl up by her hair and shoves his own, uncrumpled knife to her throat. An eerie smile twists his face in the darkness.

"Here's what's going to happen," the man growls. "You're going to give me back that purse. Then you're going to give me your wallet, too. Try anything funny and I'll—"

Brittany doesn't see what happens next, but she doesn't need to in order to know what's happened. Sam moves _fast_.

One second, he's standing and watching as the man presses a knife to the girl's throat. The next, Sam is holding the man against the wall, the knife forgotten as it clatters to the sidewalk.

The man coughs as Sam's arm pushes against his neck, his face now red for a completely different reason. He kicks his legs wildly and pulls at Sam's clothing, but it does nothing but make Sam laugh at his attempt to break free. His eyes fly to his partner, as if begging for help, but the other man has backed up against the opposite wall, unwilling to interfere.

"You'll…?" Sam asks, and she can hear the taunting smile in his voice.

The man against the wall grunts in response.

"I think I know what you're going to do." Sam's voice is low with menace. "I'm going to put you down. You're gonna walk home, and you are _never_ going to try anything like this again, do you understand?"

The man nods quickly in Sam's grip, eyes bulging.

"No, no, I don't think you do. Let me clear this up for you, because we wouldn't want any misunderstandings, would we?" He seems to shove harder into the man on the last word, causing him to squeal.

"You will never hurt anyone else ever again. If you do, _I will know_. If you try to mug someone again, I will know. If you try to rob an apartment or break into a car, I will know. If you try to cheat on your fucking taxes, I will know. Am I making myself clear?"

The man's nod is smaller this time, his eyes staring directly into Sam's.

"Good."

The man crashes to the ground, gasping for air. His friend is quickly at his side, pulling him up by his jacket. He scrambles to his feet clumsily and then they're both running, fleeing the alley as though hell is snapping at their heels.

Brittany waits until she's sure that they're gone before she rushes down the fire escape as quickly as she dares. By the time she reaches the ground, Sam is talking soothingly to the woman.

"You get home safe now, all right?"

His voice is back to its normal pitch, and Brittany's grateful. As it turns out, Sam can be very intimidating when he wants to be.

"Sam?" she interrupts, making the girl jump. She smiles apologetically before realizing that the girl can't see her face, and offers a small wave instead. She leans up to her brother, talking to him in a whisper. "You can't just make her walk home after all of this."

"Huh?" Sam asks, looking confusedly between the two girls. The woman is still shaking, and it's obvious by her scraped knees and ruffled hair that the thugs messed her around a bit. Brittany tugs on her brother's sleeve, pulling him off to the side so she can talk to him in a hushed tone.

"We should walk her home. You know, make sure she gets there safely?"

"Oh," he says, glancing back at the girl. "You think? I've never… yeah, you're right," he agrees with a nod.

Brittany eyes the girl's scabbed knees warily, noticing the way she doesn't put any weight on her right leg. She probably wouldn't be up for walking, after all.

"Why don't you just run with her real quick?" she suggests, instead. "I'll wait here."

Sam brow crinkles.

"I don't know, Britt, that seems kind of dangerous," he says, looking concerned. She shakes her head.

"Don't be silly, I'll be fine. Besides, it won't take you more than a minute, anyway. I won't even know you're gone," she says, and she can see the frown twist on his face while he considers it.

"If you're sure," he says uncertainly after a moment, and Brittany nods enthusiastically. It just wouldn't feel right to make the poor girl walk home after getting beaten, robbed, and almost much worse.

"Miss?" Sam calls out, and the girl looks up from where she was leaning against the wall. "Would you like me to take you home? It'll only take me a second, and I'd feel much better knowing you're not walking out on the streets by yourself."

The girl smiles gratefully, and Brittany's sure she's made the right choice. Sam gives his sister a quick wave before scooping the girl into his arms. They're gone a second later.

Brittany glances around her before reaching up and pulling the bandana off of her face, inhaling deeply when her mouth is finally free. In all of the excitement, she hadn't realized how uncomfortable the damn thing was. She pulls her hood down and ruffles a hand through her hair, kicking absentmindedly at stones while she waits.

Sam hasn't even been gone for a minute when she feels it. _Heat_, another person's body a stark contrast to the cold air in the alley. Someone else.

Her head snaps up quickly to see if Sam's returned, but they alley is empty. She strains her ears, trying to hear any movement, but can only pick up the sounds of cars driving through the city. Anyone else would think that they are alone.

Brittany knows better.

She takes a slow step forward, taking her time to examine her surroundings. She braces herself on the balls of her feet like Sam taught her earlier, and her hands tighten unconsciously into fists.

_Maybe Sam is playing a trick again? _she wonders, but a small, terrified part of herself adds, _Or maybe the robbers are coming back._

But no, this doesn't feel like more than one person to her. There was only one. And certainly not someone as big as either of the two men who had jumped that woman.

_Maybe you're overreacting. Maybe it's just a raccoon or like… a chipmunk_, she considers, but her eyes don't stop searching the rooftops.

And then she sees it.

On top of the building, crouched exactly where she had been minutes before, is a person. Brittany's mind goes blank, forgetting everything that Sam told her about fighting. Instead, she stares dumbly at the person as they slowly stand up, realizing they've been seen. It looks as if they're about to run, or maybe come down the fire escape, when—

"Brittany?"

Sam is back.

"Britt, what are you doing?" he asks, and all of the sudden he's at her side, grabbing her arm.

She doesn't respond. She doesn't think she could if she tried.

The person who was standing in front of her just vanished into thin air.

* * *

Brittany stares at the frozen pizza display, frowning. Why is it that the cheapest food is always the unhealthiest? Sam's powers may ensure that he always looks like he's made of pure muscle, but the same certainly does not apply to her. Sure, with all the running around she does for her job she'll probably never have to worry about actually putting on any _weight_, but she still wants to stay in shape.

She's been working hard to train with Sam. He's been taking her on his morning runs with him, and he's dragged her to the gym a couple of times in the past week. Sam moved their couch so that it's pressing against the wall, opening to living room up so it's the perfect amount of space for sparring. Brittany has never been in a fight in her life— Sam had to teach her how to throw a basic punch.

She doesn't want to waste all of her hard work because Hot Pockets are on sale that week. Still, they can't afford more than a few pounds of ground beef, and a lot of the fresh produce gets pricey real quick. She doesn't have much of a choice.

She hasn't been in the grocery store for fifteen minutes when her cell phone rings. She knows who it is before she even picks it up - Sam, calling for the sixteenth time that afternoon.

"Sorry I couldn't come with you, Britt," Sam's voice comes over her phone.

Brittany rolls her eyes since he can't see her. Sam hasn't left her alone for more than a few minutes at a time since she saw that person on the rooftop the other night - and she didn't even have her bandana on during that strange encounter. Sam's afraid they saw her face, whoever it was, and that they'll try to come and find her. He's been in full-on big brother mode ever since.

"Sam, you have to work. I'll be _fine_," she says, turning with effort away from the frozen pizza and heading toward the granola bars. "It was probably just my imagination, anyway."

Brittany isn't scared. She's only met one other person in the world who could disappear the way the person on the rooftop had, and that was the one person she had gone out that night to find. She's considered telling Sam about the mystery girl after the roof incident, but she's too afraid he'll say the girl could be dangerous or something, and there would be no use arguing with him then.

"I know you don't believe that, B."

She sighs, and picks out a box of vanilla granola that's on sale. "I guess not. Still, we can't just sit around all scared. You've been training me, and I think my… you know, are getting stronger." It's a lie. Her powers haven't been getting stronger. In fact, she hasn't used them at all in the past few days - but if it will get Sam to stop calling her every five minutes, she doesn't mind lying a little.

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah," she says, and tries to smile. She still always feels bad about lying to her brother.

"Oh, hey - can you get a few boxes of pasta? I think we still have some sauce in the fridge."

"No, we used the rest of that on Wednesday," she says. "But I'll grab another jar." Food always seems to run out quicker than they expect, and prices in the stores seem to be rising faster than either of them can keep up with. Winter is coming, and in their poorly insulted apartment building, heating bills tend to eat up nearly all of their paychecks after rent.

"Awesome. Thanks, Britt."

"Do you want anything else?" she asks, and immediately regrets asking. She's already gotten Sam's favorite type of store-brand cookies and the value sized Easy Macs that he eats for lunch. Along with three dollars worth of Ramen Noodles and a couple of cans of soup, that's all they can really afford for the week.

"Nah, that sounds good," Sam says. "I'll see you after work."

She nearly sighs in relief as she hangs up the phone. It's not that she doesn't want to buy Sam whatever he wants. She just doesn't want to have to tell him no. He gets pretty sensitive over the fact that she earns significantly more money as a server for a catering company than he does delivering pizzas.

"Hi, Jim!" Brittany calls as she approaches the register.

"Oh, hey, Brittany." The cashier smiles bashfully up at her, his cheeks tinting pink as he greets her in return. She's reminded of the crush he had on her in high school, when he asked her to prom senior year. She would have never been able to afford a gown, though, so she'd had to turn him down. She and Sam had spent the night watching Carrie instead.

"Will that be all today?" he asks, all professionalism, as he scans the last box of pasta. She nods, pulling out her wallet and handing him the last of her cash, when something catches her eye out the window.

She can hardly believe what she sees. It's the girl from the other night.

At least, Brittany thinks it is. It's hard to tell, because she's wearing a loose-fitting hoodie and large sunglasses. Still, even from a distance, Brittany is nearly certain that it's her.

The girl is standing on the sidewalk across the street, talking to a man who towers over her. Brittany can't see his face, but she can tell that the girl doesn't like whatever he's saying by the frown etched deep into her features. He turns away from her suddenly, retreating, and Brittany watches as she crosses her arms and huffs angrily.

Brittany grabs her two shopping bags from the end of the checkout counter and quickly leaves the store, ignoring Jimmy as he calls after her that she forgot her change.

The girl notices her approaching. Her head tilts to the side as Brittany all but runs to the crosswalk. Brittany swears she can almost see the beginnings of a smile tug at the girl's lips, but it doesn't last long before she's turning away from Brittany and starting down the street.

"Hey, wait!" she shouts, but it's too late; the girl is already walking as fast as she can down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. She jams her finger against the crosswalk button, waiting for the light to change.

As soon as traffic is clear, she crosses the street and practically runs after the girl, doing the best that she can to keep up with the heavy bags hanging off of her arms. She makes a mental note to tell Sam that this would be an effective workout later on.

The girl turns a corner suddenly into an alleyway, and Brittany speeds up, realizing what this probably means.

"Stop, wait!" she calls, running to where the girl had just turned.

"Please, don't disa-...ppear," Brittany finishes the rest of her sentence in a sigh.

The girl is already gone.

_Damn it._

Brittany exhales heavily, dropping her grocery bags to the ground as she leans against the brick wall to catch her breath. She's not sure what she would have said if she had caught up to the girl anyway, but she can't help but feel disappointed that she didn't get a chance to figure that out .

_Hey! You can disappear a make things fly with your hands! I can warm up leftovers using my mind! Let's be friends! _

Judging by her attitude at their last encounter, Brittany somehow doesn't think that that would have worked, if that even _was_ the mystery-super-girl. Brittany has no sure way of knowing, except for the fact that the girl seemed to have vanished into thin air once she turned down that alleyway, just like the girl the other night.

Brittany doesn't know anything about this girl, though, and that's probably what has her running out of grocery stores to try and find her. Where did she come from? How did she get her powers? What was she doing the other night at the house? Was that her she had seen in the alley the other night? What's her name?

Brittany sighs, knowing she's just missed possibly her only opportunity to get answers. She kicks away from the wall, scooping up the bags as she begins her walk back home.

One thing is for sure: Brittany is going to find out more about this mystery girl, no matter what it takes.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you'd like, I'd appreciate it!

** .com**


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